Motel Room Mornings
by RavenclawDanosaur
Summary: Dean Winchester loves his brother. Dean Winchester loves sex. Most importantly, Dean Winchester loves having sex with his brother in dirty motel rooms, on lazy mornings, slow and easy. Rated M for non-graphic sex-related stuff. Weecest, Dean is 20, Sam is 16, but it doesn't really matter. I don't own anything that you recognize.


**AN: This is the first thing I've written in a while, and the first thing I've ever published, so I am really nervous. This took about twenty minutes to write, in the middle of Chem class, so I apologize for any huge errors I've made. Also, this was the first attempt at anything even remotely sexual, so. Forgive me. Constructive criticism is welcome, and reviews are encouraged!**

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Lazy mornings are Dean's favorite things in the world. Sure, there's hunting too, and he's loved driving the Impala since he learned how to at eight years old. But the lazy mornings with his Sammy were the best.

Sometimes it wasn't even about the sex. Sometimes they'd just lie together, with limbs all tangled together and breaths mingling, and wait until they were forced out of bed by the need to eat. They'd bask in each other's warmth, and leave sluggish kisses on any part of the other that they could reach. Sometimes they'd stay that way for hours. It was the only time Dean could let himself relax, with his Sammy safe in his arms. Dean couldn't remember a time where Sam's body didn't fit perfectly against his. _Especially_ on those comfortable mornings alone, in their motel. They were Dean's favorite.

Of course, he couldn't have Sammy like that when Dad was home. Those days were hard to get through, Dad constantly in between them, as if he knew what his sons were up to and was trying to keep them away from each other. When Dean woke up, and Sam wasn't in his arms, he felt cold and panicked. When Sam didn't join him in the shower, with mischievous eyes and a wicked grin, he didn't feel clean. When Dean had to wait until the drive to school to kiss Sammy properly, he felt as if he were going through withdrawal. He had to be careful to keep his eyes (and his hands) to himself, and it was so hard. When he couldn't keep Sammy as close as he wanted, when his hand was right there, and Dean couldn't reach out to take it- it was a form of _torture_. The days Dad was home were bad days- _very_ bad days.

Sometimes, though, when Dad was home and they couldn't afford a motel room, all three of them slept in the Impala. Those days, Sam would cuddle up against his big brother in the back seat without any second thought, because there wasn't any room to do anything else. The smell of Sam would mix with the Impala, and Dean would swear up and down that he was in heaven.

No, it wasn't always about the sex. But when they were alone in a motel, it usually ended that way. And Dean loved that too.

Usually, they'd take breaks throughout the day to get their fixes of each other. They had quickies during Sam's lunch period at school, they necked in the Impala when Dean went to pick Sam up, and whenever they stopped to get gas on the way to a new town, they'd fuck in the gas station bathrooms. It was typically a sweaty, desperate race to get off before somebody found them. They'd be as quiet as possible, just trying to get their fills (of each other) to sustain them until the next opportunity arose.

When they woke up in a filthy motel room without their dad, the Winchesters didn't have to rush. There wasn't any worrying, and there wasn't anybody to catch them in the act. They could take their time- Dean could take his time with Sammy, could make him beg and whimper for his big brother. _So desperate_. Sam could explore every inch of Dean's body (skipping over a few scars that he knew made Dee feel self-conscious, even though Dean had never said anything). Their mornings were easy, reflective of their relationship. As simple as breathing, and just as necessary. Sometimes Sam felt like he could live without the air, so long as Dean was holding him together.

It was all lazy groping and sweet, shallow kisses. Dean loves those mornings, where nobody takes control, and it's a steady give and take.

Sometimes, though, Sam just needs his big brother to fuck him like he means it. So sometimes, Sam will spend some more time at school, away from Dean. Sometimes he'll start talking about some friends he's making at school, with just a touch too much admiration in his voice. Every single time, without fail, Dean gets jealous, and takes his Sammy back. Usually up against a wall or something, and usually in a semi-public place. Like that time Sam had gone to the movies with a few guys from school, and on Monday Dean stormed into school, dragged his baby brother out of lunch, and fucked him in the janitor's closet. Sometimes, Sam just needed to see his big brother above him (or below him, whatever. Sam wasn't picky as long as Deans dick was in his ass), with that intensely desperate look on his face. Sam loves the strangled gasps, and the murmured praises that Dean throws at him. Sam loves Dean's possessive grip, the bruises that he leaves, and the hickeys that will be impossible to hide the next day. Sam likes belonging to Dean, every once in a while.

But the motel room mornings, when they're equals in whatever this thing is, will always be the Winchesters favorite things in the world.

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**Hopefully, you'll be hearing more from me. If my friends can pressure me into another blurb.**


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